Multi-hued with speed imbued the peloton advances,
And passing by provides the eye with momentary glances,
Of muscled limbs and flashing rims, shaded eyes and plastered thighs,
Mitted hands upon the bars holding on for hours and hours.

The entourage of bikes and cars are there to give support,
Through rain and sun their labours run donating what is sort,
Replacing wheels, handing drink, advising riders when they think
A change of plan could help their man to gain a lead through further speed.

The peloton streams forward with power that is driven,
By domestiques who through the weeks yield effort freely given,
To aid the team achieve their dream for which they all have striven.
No glory theirs, no podium place but they’re the force that drives the race.

The progress made is undelayed by any circumstances,
The peloton rides on and on inspite of all mischances,
So the stars will win their glory, through the help of those who ride,
In the peloton behind them and are justly filled with pride.